


How to Taste Violet

by laianna



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Novel, Mental Health Issues, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laianna/pseuds/laianna
Summary: Casmir Morgan is a tenth grade student who likes literary and only wants nothing else but to get through high school without having to deal with the inconvenience of shouldering every single group project. He attempts to escape the unfortunate case of having a project partner in haiku-composing by choosing Amethyst Parker, a girl who's fond of art yet rarely goes to school. Will they walk the same road with a mix of phrases and colors?"What's your favorite color?""Violet.""Like your name?"





	How to Taste Violet

"Amethyst Parker."

Her generic name blurted out from my lips sounds like hearing a word from our Student Council President – Unbelievable.

Because...

a.) I've accepted that I am an over-achiever. 

b.) I heard that this kid does not even come to school twice in two weeks.

c.) The last time I saw her  ~~in this class~~  around school year was  _never._

But am I regretting choosing her as my English Project partner? No, I am definitely not.

“Are you quite sure, Mr. Casmir?” Mrs. Smith lowers her clipboard, halting from writing each student’s partner.

Without hesitation, I give a nod, sitting down before she even gives me the permission to do so. The way she gave me a furrow of eyebrows before proceeding to the next few columns did not intimidate me, so I chuckled.  _It’s not like working with a partner will do me good,_ I thought.

From across the room, Delilah scoffs to my direction. She always wants to work with me since seventh grade in every class we took together. It is known to be a fact that kids in my batch built friendships with me just for their grades to be higher with my help of spoon-feeding them test answers and 500-word count essays.

As if on cue, the bell rang, and her three-inched heels clicked to my seat which is beside the window. In fear of draining my energy by talking to dumbasses, I hurriedly packed up my things and stood up to leave the room.  _Too late,_ I sighed before turning around when I felt two heavy taps on my right shoulder.

“Am I a joke to you?” Red-tinted (way too pigmented red) lips frowned right in front of my eyes because of our height difference.  So, I stepped back only to see her crossing her arms and look down at me. It wasn’t eye-pleasing to see this sight after paying not-too-patient attention to haiku composition.  _5-7-5. Nature. What’s difficult to understand in that?_

“Maybe, maybe not,” I singsong, passing through her with a long yawn. “Acing this class is though,” I added. The pace of my fast-walking was not effective enough because her heavy footsteps echoed the hallway.

“All you wanted was to do work alone, now you’re doing this?” She struts alongside me, hands now on her waist. “This Parker kid barely goes to school anymore, who are you supposed to work with? No one?” She states the obvious and I stroked my chin, pretending to be in deep thought. I stopped in my tracks to face her.

“Huh, if Parker does not attend class it means no one will bother me and ruin my ideas,” I nodded to my statement. “Perhaps that wasn’t the plan that I was going for,” I shrugged with sarcasm laced in my tone and left her dumbfounded. I didn’t think about running off because I knew she’ll fuck off for once.  _Those goddamn heels hurt my ears more than it’ll ever hurt her feet._

❆

“Parker?!” Raven says, opening another bag of my bread crusts. I told him about what happened in English Class earlier.  I swatted his hand, demanding him to give it back. “Cas, I think you’re forgetting that bread crusts are the foundation of our friendship and you shall not keep them away from me.”

“That’s my last bag for today, fuckwit!” He raised the bag higher, making me tiptoe to get it. “What am I supposed to eat for Arts later?”

“Eat shit.”  _Typical of Raven to say that phrase._

I remember my first encounter with Raven. It was during a seventh grade Math Class on a boring day when I only had two hours of sleep because of drinking too much coffee. I had to suffer from migraines because of too much caffeine intake nightly for a whole month of project-makings.  _Groupworks sure are pain in the ass when you’re the only one doing it._

“Hey, Morgan,” Raven’s deep voice whispered from my side that moment. “You want some?” I was at the edge of falling asleep as he pushed a bag of bread crusts with his left foot.

From that day forward, I bugged my mum every morning to pack me the bread crusts from my little sister’s sandwiches.

“I don’t think that’s something you’d tell someone who doesn’t have to fuss about haiku making,” I rolled my eyes when he placed down the bag for me to munch on some.

“I think you’re forgetting that we have Arts together next week,” he laughs. I glanced at my wristwatch to see that there’s only one more minute left before the bell rings.

“I am not,” I snatched the bag of bread crusts off the lunch table and ran off to my next class. The shrilling bell goes off, surprising him. Raven always wants me to warn him before it does every 12PM but I rarely do. “And I’m still not giving you any bread crusts!”

“Not what I meant,” he covers his with one hand and flips me off with the other. “Fuck off, Casmir Morgan!”

❆

 _“Fuck off, Casmir Morgan!”_  I remember her voice and it echoed in my head repeatedly.

 _I remember her,_ my eyes widen as Amethyst passes between my seat and Raven’s to get to hers.  _I remember now._ In shock, I covered my whole face, and gathered the most strength I have to stop myself from turning around to look at her.  _How could I fucking forget?_

“Oh, my fucking God,” my voice was muffled by the palms of both my hands. Although, despite this, Raven heard me. I noticed this because soon enough, his tan left arm intentionally bumped against mine, making me sit straight back up. The same hand he used passed me a folded piece of paper before it went to his dark brown buzz cut, pretending he was listening to the teacher in front.

Underneath my desk, I opened the note discreetly. Because: a.) The entire class is paying attention to graphic designing, for some damn reason. b.) Amethyst Parker is seated behind me.

 _‘ye boi, it’s THE amethyst parker frm 7 th grade. rmbr?’_ I crumpled the note immediately before shoving it into my jean pocket.

A week after becoming  _quote-on-quote_ ‘partners’ with Amethyst, she decided to show up in school. But,  _boy,_ I wasn’t expecting to see her in  _THIS_  class and make me realize  _THIS_  shit  _THIS_  day.

My eyes glanced back and forth from my notes to my wristwatch the entirety of Arts Class out of anxiousness. I only wanted the bell to go off as soon as possible and nothing else. I didn’t even bother taking out my remaining bread crusts which I’ll just have to offer to Raven shamefully later.

A minute before the class was dismissed, all of my stationary was unproperly shoved inside my bag which was what I least expected from myself who is a neat freak. Therefore, when the said minute passed, I instantly stood up from seat ready as I’ll ever be to dash to my next class.

Yet, right before my eyes, an owner of wavy bundles of cinnamon hair cascade against the back of a denim jacket until the garter of her skater skirt as she took a few steps forward before raising her hand.

“Mr. Fielding!” Amethyst calls out the attention of the mid-30s teacher. “I have a very important question.”

When Mr. Fielding asked her what seems to be the concern, she threw me an icy stare which – from my perspective, lasted for thirty minutes considering how cold the atmosphere went.

 _Holy shit, it really is the same girl who got weirded out by me,_ I facepalmed.  _It’s the same girl who got me to my first and last detention I will ever have._

She replied after scoffing, “Are we allowed to transfer seats?”


End file.
